Fight Club
by Hollyberries and Vanilla beans
Summary: "I sinned as devils did, loved as angels did, and eventually, I felt so much that I started to feel nothing."
1. Chapter 1

**Rule one. you do not talk about fight club.**

Twining the bandage wrapping tightly around his left hand. Flexing. Checking the feel. Alfred felt himself growing light chested. Giddy. He smiled. Perfect.

He stood up from the chair that he had dragged to the back of the hotel's laundry room and left the room silently, not bothering the flick the glowing fluorescent light off as he did. The basement was mostly quiet, minus the dull thrum of noise faintly fading through the door at the end of the dank hallway. He almost giggled to himself. It had been way too long. The door was pushed open when he was just a few feet away and he stopped.

"You ready?" Manic red eyes caught his as Gilbert grinned at him. Alfred shrugged as he caught the once muted noise full on. The room already reeked like blood. "Maybe. We'll see. How's Mathias?" His friend hooted. "On fire. Your game better be spot on, he could really kick your ass tonight." Alfred snorted and stepped past Gilbert. We'll see.

 **Rule two. you DO NOT talk about fight club.**

His gaze settled on the makeshift rope and building support post ring. He hardly noticed people stepping out of his way. Catcalling. Betting money. It didn't change. Just the same old same old.

He caught the eye of another blonde on the opposite side of the room. The man threw down the towel he had been using to wipe the rust colored stains off his hands and chest and approached their 'ring'. Mathias Kohler bared his teeth at Alfred mockingly. "I wasn't expecting you back, lille lort." Cornflower met cerulean as their eyes locked aggressively. "You were wrong then." Mathias laughed. "I'm never wrong. And tonight you're going to lose."

 **Rule four. only two guys to a fight.**

Alfred Pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his sandals so that they lay behind him. Mathias slide under the ropes on his side. "And here I was thinking that you'd forget the rules…" Alfred scowled.

 **Rule six. no shirts, no shoes.**

Never.

"I wouldn't think that you'd be one to really talk about remembering rules. What with the last fight I saw you in.." He pulled the top rope up and stepped onto the stained cement floor inside what was now their cage.

 **Rule three. someone yells "stop!", goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.**

 **Rule five. one fight at a time.**

Mathias stiffened. "Fuck you. No, never mind. You'd probably enjoy that." Alfred laughed. "A whole lot more then I'd enjoy killing someone." Mathias spat on the ground in front of him. "rend mig i røven!" Alfred sighed as the noise around the room almost seemed to shrink and turn to static.

Shit talk was a waste of breath. Mathias should have known that by now.

Everything was a waste of breath.

Everything besides fighting.

Everything.

Alfred pulled his hands up in front of his chest. Just balancing. Preparing. "Can we get this show on the road? I don't wanna be here all night."

 **Rule seven. fights will go on as long as they have to.**

Mathias scoffed at him before stepping into his own preferred starting stance. "Whatever. You act like this is your first fight and you're an impatient little newbie. Don't be such a bitch."

 **Rule eight. Final rule. if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.**

Alfred let Mathias' words roll off his shoulders as the two of them started to circle their arena slowly. They didn't matter. _Nothing matters._ A tiny voice whispered. "Nothing matters." He agreed.

Then he moved. And the fight was on.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey America, wait up!" pausing, he turned to watch a red faced, out of breath England as he nearly jogged to catch him. The hotel lobby was moderately crowded with patrons, including other nations that had just broken from their meeting and had yet to continue on to their after meeting plans.

"Oh hey! Sorry bro, didn't hear you." Green eyes narrowed at him disgustedly, "I've been calling to you since you walked out of the conference room you twat!" Alfred shrugged. "Sorry." England sighed irritably, "I'm sure you are." Running his fingers through his choppy hair, he examined his ex-charge carefully. "I was curious to know whether or not you had pre-arranged plans for dinner this evening… Norway and I have planned out a meal-"

"It's good dude, I already have plans. Thanks though! Means a lot that you thought about me!" England blinked in surprise at the prompt rejection but managed a quick response, "O-oh, okay then.. I'll tell Norway it shall just be the two of us…"

"Yeah! I hope you have fun! Denmark told me that 'Norge' can be a stick in the mud sometimes." He laughed loudly, gaining several annoyed looks, before turning and making his way to the elevators. England called after him, "W-will do…"

Smashing the up button repeatedly until the doors opened, Alfred hummed to himself. Keeping his eyes toward the ground, he stepped in and immediately proceeded to press his floor number before allowing the doors to close. He turned to face the other person in the space and looked up. Smiling.

"Hey there commie, how's the economy? Still shitty?" Russia's lips curved into a small smile in return.

"Ah, shitty comrade? I thought that term was more effective in describing aspects of your own country." Alfred laughed heartily. "Whatever man… You got plans tonight?"

Russia's smile seemed to fall and his eyes flashed.

"Rules comrade. You would do well to remember them."

Alfred snorted, "Just asking, dick. Thought you might have some weird ass S&M party planned with one of your little slave bitches."

Silvery brows raised above violet eyes. "Little slave bitches? That's a new one. I should mention it to Lithuania."

There was a ding before the doors slide open. America's floor. "Yeah, yeah, give him some other reason to hate my guts, that's great. Go fuck yourself Braginski."

"We both know that's not how I plan on spending my evening. We shall be seeing one another later tonight, da?"

"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world." America gave two thumbs up towards the hulking man in the elevator before the doors closed. Tearing off towards his room to drop his files and change his clothes. Of course he'd be there. He always was.

He sighed as he threw open the door to his hotel room. It was dark but he didn't bother turning on the lights as the door slammed behind him. Shedding his shoes, tie, and bag as he crossed the room, the bed closest to him creaked in protest as he flopped himself down onto it.

Who was going to be there tonight?

Braginski. For sure. Probably Mathias if he wasn't with Norway. Jet. Tim. Gilbert. Maybe Ludwig. Maybe. Sadiq. Antonio. There would probably be a few more, but those were the people he was certain on.

His hands fisted into the scratchy bed cover. No one he couldn't take. Except maybe Sadiq… Sadiq could kick his ass. Rolling onto his back, Alfred's eyes studied the ceiling. How boring it would be to wait. Three hours. What could he do for three hours? A voice whispered softly. Just in his head. _Practice._

Sliding off the side of the bed, his hands dug around through his suit case. His fist closed on a roughly textured, circular ring of wrapped tape. Pulling it out, he rose and made his way to the bathroom where he flipped both of the switches up.

Blue eyes shown out of the mirror.

Emotionlessly.

The tape wrap felt sticky in his hands as he carefully started to unwind it.

He grinned suddenly at the reflection facing him and those emotionless blue eyes lit up.

Angrily, almost violently.

"Practice it is then."


	3. Chapter 3

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE BUSY TONIGHT?! WE HAD FUCKING PLANS, GOD DAMNIT!" Romano glared at his partner angrily from the bed. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, raw disbelief on his face.

"Ah, but Lovi, we can spend time together another night this week! I promise." Spain stepped through the doorway of the bathroom, quick to get out of the line of sight of the little Italian. Romano scowled before flopping backwards onto the bed.

"That's what you said last time, you bastard." He sighed, pouty now, as he heard the shower being turned on and set to what had to be an un-Godly temperature, if he knew Antonio at all. Which he did.

It was only the first night of the World Conference, sure, but Romano didn't know what else he could do if Spain was busy…. Feli was supposed to be having a movie night with the potato bastard and everyone else was an asshole. God Damnit. He sighed again and rolled off the bed, padding quietly to the bathroom several feet away.

Spain looked up, shirtless and semi surprised as Romano stepped in and grabbed the complementary lotion bottle sitting next to the sink. Romano ignored him and went back to sit on what was supposed to be Antonio's bed (not that he would be using it…), popping open the lotion bottle and smelling it.

Spain watched him as he did, grinning. "You really do like hotel lotions, don't you?"

"Shut up bastard!" Romano snapped at him. He began spreading a thin layer of the citrus scented lotion over his hands and lower arms. It was good fucking lotion. He kept his focus on rubbing the cream in between his fingers as Antonio came over to sit beside him.

Romano blushed "You're too close tomato bastard! Just go shower, the God damn water's still running.."

Antonio reached an arm out around Romano's waist and buried a smiling face into the side of his neck right below his left ear. "Lovino…." Romano stiffened and his blush darkened. He tried to move away.

"Go put your shirt back on if you're not going to shower."

Emerald eyes met hazel. "But then I'd have to take it off again…" Faster than Romano could complain, he was pushed down, arms pinned above his head, with Spain straddling him. The lotion fell to the floor with a clack.

Romano flinched and closed his eyes.

"Lovino. Look at me."

He didn't answer.

"Lovi…"

"…"

"…You never want to go out with me anymore…." He whispered quietly, not meeting Antonio's eyes. It was quiet and still for several minutes.

"Oh Lovi…" Romano flinched unconsciously again as a large, gentle yet calloused hand released his wrist and touched his face lightly. "Why do you say things like that?" Romano's eyes flew open in a blaze.

"Because maybe it's true! Maybe you're sick and tired of being with me! MAYBE-" chapped lips silenced what might have turned into a screaming match. Romano could only fight for a second before giving in. Several tears managed to find their way from his eyes and they rolled off the side of his face quickly.

"Lucero, I physically cannot grow tired or sick of you. You are my World. Mi Vida. Do not ever forget that."

Romano shuddered. "Io ti amo." He whispered before wrapping his arms around Antonio's waist. "Please don't leave me."

Antonio pressed a soft kiss, first to one eye and then the other. "Never."

Romano sighed, looking into his dopey boyfriends eyes. "You seriously need to get off me though, you ass. You weigh a ton."

"Mi querido, let's not even go there. We both know that you are perfectly capable of bearing my weight," Antonio chuckled and he ground down into his lover, making him groan and darken to a lovely, tomato like shade.

"B-bastard…" Romano gasped as dark arms wrapped around him, dragging him off the bed and towards the bathroom.

"Ten minutes and we both know you'll be calling me something else, cariño…" Romano sighed as he was stipped of his articles of clothing in between heated kisses. Moaning as the kisses turned to bites and strokes and he was dragged into the steamy shower.

He didn't even give a damn that the water was too hot.

 **Translations:**

 _Sp._ Lucero- Little Bright Star

 _Sp._ Mi Vida- My Life

 _It._ Io ti amo- I love you

 _Sp._ Mi querido- My dear

 _Sp._ Cariño- Honey


End file.
